[ Despite the taunt in his voice, there's a curl of curiosity despite himself, one he doesn't bother to hide. He keeps an eye on Phainon as he speaks, taking the time to observe his body closer.
That the collar remains almost makes him smirk. He knew Phainon had to be in shape to keep up with him during their duel, but now he can drink in the fruits of that labor - the broadness of his chest and shoulders, the scars he sports that Mydeimos himself lacks. The golden sun and its path swooping across his neck has him pausing.
[ It feels like more of a confession than anything else he's offered so far.
Phainon doesn't want to be more vulnerable with this man, doesn't want to offer any of that softness to someone who was nothing more than a conqueror. He's rational enough to know that sharing a part of himself will ease the tension between them, and they might be able to at least tolerate each other.
... Even if he can feel those eyes on him, his skin prickling. ]
There weren't too many to find at home, but I could read about them.
[ It sound dismissive, like it might be the end of it - and then Mydeimos speaks again as he reaches for a hair oil to work into his. ]
Not everyone has a history that endures like the Kremnoans. It is a respectable effort to learn of those societies who came before us, especially those who have been lost to time or war.
[ Archeology is not much of a pasttime in Kremnos, when you can find slates and paper dating back to the first Gorgo. That is not the case with other nations, and Mydeimos knows Castrum Kremnos has had a hand in those lost societies. ]
[ There's an easy jab to be made there - that few places have the history the Kremnoans have because they have been invaded or conquered - but Phainon bites his tongue. He doesn't want to start another fight, especially not here, where they are both so unguarded.
Instead, his eyes dark to one side, away from the naked slope of the prince. ]
That is what I enjoy most. Seeing what people, what societies were left in the past.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Despite the taunt in his voice, there's a curl of curiosity despite himself, one he doesn't bother to hide. He keeps an eye on Phainon as he speaks, taking the time to observe his body closer.
That the collar remains almost makes him smirk. He knew Phainon had to be in shape to keep up with him during their duel, but now he can drink in the fruits of that labor - the broadness of his chest and shoulders, the scars he sports that Mydeimos himself lacks. The golden sun and its path swooping across his neck has him pausing.
Tattoo, birthmark, or blessing? ]
no subject
[ It feels like more of a confession than anything else he's offered so far.
Phainon doesn't want to be more vulnerable with this man, doesn't want to offer any of that softness to someone who was nothing more than a conqueror. He's rational enough to know that sharing a part of himself will ease the tension between them, and they might be able to at least tolerate each other.
... Even if he can feel those eyes on him, his skin prickling. ]
There weren't too many to find at home, but I could read about them.
no subject
[ It sound dismissive, like it might be the end of it - and then Mydeimos speaks again as he reaches for a hair oil to work into his. ]
Not everyone has a history that endures like the Kremnoans. It is a respectable effort to learn of those societies who came before us, especially those who have been lost to time or war.
[ Archeology is not much of a pasttime in Kremnos, when you can find slates and paper dating back to the first Gorgo. That is not the case with other nations, and Mydeimos knows Castrum Kremnos has had a hand in those lost societies. ]
no subject
Instead, his eyes dark to one side, away from the naked slope of the prince. ]
That is what I enjoy most. Seeing what people, what societies were left in the past.
[ He almost smiles. ]
Their stories, their beliefs, their worlds.